I'm still psyched about getting back into this story.
He leaned against the wall, breathing hard—feeling exhausted, but exhilarated.
I'm glad he can get some good feelings in.
Except Lois’s voice . . .
That sigh was slightly unsteady, and shook at the end in an almost unnoticeable way…
Had she been crying?
I'm glad he noticed.
Lois had called him. Him, in the middle of the night.
Weird and awesome 'eh Clark?
I wonder how bad Luthor's illness is. I can't stand to think that he's using the green stuff to get better. Hopefully Clark doesn't have to be near him a lot incase he is.
“Excuse me, Mr. Kent,” Luthor said with a thin-lipped smile, clearly perturbed to have been bumped into so clumsily. He was holding a bouquet of roses, which were now slightly rumpled by Clark’s gracelessness.
“E-excuse me,” Clark stuttered, taking a step back and bumping into his desk. He had been about to set the papers down, but as he looked into the cold eyes before him his grip tightened over them as he held them close, almost protectively.
Lois, I’m a coward.
Lois, I need you. I need your help.
Lois, I want to be here for you. I love you.
He prayed she wouldn’t turn him away, even for a moment in anger. He didn’t know if his spirit could take it.
Lois, I’m Superman.
Lois . . .
C'mon Clark. Spit it out. WHY OH WHY.
Great part, but I'm going to run off to the next one now.
